A Few Birthday Thoughts-and My Birthday Gift to You

So…Today’s my birthday. This isn’t really about that, though by the end you’ll understand a little better. 

In October, 1972 I was at some sort of drum corps function in Santa Clara, CA. with my family. To occupy my time (and keep me from complaining about being bored) my folks bought me a paperback book titled “Star Trek.” I don’t think they understood at the time what they were about to create. Years-and several conventions, a number of books, and some very patient television watching-later, I was a full on Trekkie. (Still am, to an extent.) Over time, I got models, blueprints, books, a Tech manual, tribbles, drinking glasses, posters, patches (and more stuff than I’m admitting to)…and an unwavering belief that there is hope for the human race, despite ourselves. 

“So what?” you’re asking. Be patient-a good story takes time. 

Star Wars came out, and I ate it up. Battlestar Galactica, Message from Space, Quark, Close Encounters of the Third Kind…all of that fueled my younger days. So did Marvel Comics, Anime and Manga, and a little something called Elfquest. Asimov, Heinlein, Harrison (if you haven’t read the Stainless Steel Rat books, you really should!), Ellison, Clarke…and Myers, whose “Frontliners” I read over and over again. If you were to say I lived in the future-or at least in some other world-you’d have been right. 

Time had a way of flying by when you’re not looking. Now all these years later, I have books of my own for sale. I just wrote some 57,755 words of a second volume of the “Stories of Dai Nihon Teikoku” during November for National Novel Writer’s Month (Or NaNoWriMo); that book will see print sometime next year. I might have written more, but an idea got lodged in my head about the crew of a StarCruiser. So I wrote a little bit of it every day for half a month…and over 30,o0o words later I’m still working on it. Below is an excerpt from that work; it’s my birthday gift to you. Enjoy! 

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Location: GSF StarQuarters, GSF Unified Date 2319.02.27, approximately 1000 base time.

Colt Richmond stood there, waiting patiently. He was heading for his new ship, new Captain’s stripes adorning his sleeves. He would likely be traveling with a few of his crew; that was to be expected from this part of space. In the meantime, he was cooling his heels waiting for his transport. He overheard some people getting into a heated exchange; curious, he wandered over to see what the issue was. Standing there was a diminutive woman-she couldn’t have been more than 1.21 Unified meters (roughly four feet tall), pointed ears and wings, holding her own against three larger males. As he approached, he heard what sounded like taunting or teasing  from the officers of equal rank. “What is the issue, everyone?” She looked up at him and spoke. Her voice was like a cross between windchimes and a hummingbird’s wings; he raised an eyebrow and replied in kind. Turning to them, he pleasantly said “The young lady would like her translator pin back. Do one of you happen to know what happened to it?” “Sir! No sir!” He looked at them all again, mildly irritated. “I hope you all aren’t serving on my ship; if you are I will find ways to make your lives miserable. Now…do you happen to know what happened to the young lady’s translator pin?” One of them looked a little embarrassed. “Sir…I think it might be right here.” “Good. Hand it over to me…and get lost.” “Yessir” they replied, and scattered in three different directions. Calmly he turned to her and spoke; she replied rapidly. Nodding, he replaced the translator pin on her collar; it remained on for a moment, then fell off again. Sighing, he spoke to her in her language and explained what the issue was. Nodding she hummed and whistled at him as they walked to the station exchange. Five minutes later, he carefully repinned her translator pin to her collar. “Thank you enough, sir, I cannot. Hard it is to speak Unified. So…where headed are you?” “SC Shizukaze. Her new Captain I am; Colt Richmond my name is.” “Sir! To you I am reporting. Lieutenant Fae G’zlda I am. New Head Nurse of SC Shizukaze I am.” “The pleasure mine is.” “The pleasure mine is. Elvenspeak you well.” “Fae I am not.” “Guess well you have, sir. Fae I am. From Tsh’ree I am. Pointed ears have you. Elvish you have?” “Tsh’reen am I half. Terran am I half.” “Explains about you much. Ship departs when?” “Minutes Unified fifteen. To dock we should proceed.” “Agree with you I do, sir. Late we should not be.” 

Thinking of Dad at Christmas....

Hi, Dad—

As you would have said, time flies like the wind…and fruit flies like bananas. It’s been a bit since I’ve written my thoughts down; it’s hard to believe you’ve been gone seven years. Still, I remember that Christmas was always one of those times that you seemed to enjoy…and it seems appropriate that I take a few moments and jot some thoughts down. This year’s a little more difficult; my thoughts are as scrambled this year as they were in high school.

Speaking of years…thanks for the backbone. Not the metaphorical one; the genetic one. I’ve discovered why you disliked cold and damp so much. (Given your current resting place, there’s a certain irony to that, you know.) I wake up in the morning and could sell Rice Krispies: Snap, Crackle, POP! and my spine aligns. Thanks loads! Yeah, I know living in Oregon isn’t helping. On the other hand, I’d rather be here than in the midwest-or the east. I can see why you didn’t want to live in New Jersey! You always said the meek would inherit the earth; with my luck I’ll end up with Bayonne. 

It’s been a busy year. I’m singing with the Salem SenateAires these days; no, I’m not directing-but I’m having a ball. Traci’s been a wonderful support; I doubt I could have done half of what I did without her help. I’ve also been learning a new career; I know you understand how that works, having gone from one to another more years back than I want to admit to. I also have family: Traci has two daughters-Adrianne and Jordyn-and third daughter, Tylar. Addy has a partner-Alex-who has a cute daughter of his own, Cammy, whom we call the Bug. I love them all like they were my kids; you’d have fun discussing many things with Jordyn-and the Bug would love on you like there’s no tomorrow. Traci and I share a relationship that’s much more than a marriage. You’d love her; heaven knows I do!

Speaking of the family…the rest of the family is doing well. Mom’s doing well enough, and Amy, Kim, Liz and Patti are okay. Mom isn’t getting around as well as she could…but frankly, non of us are. As you know, none of us are getting younger-and every time I see them it’s all good. We’re taking care of Mom as best we can, but sometimes it’s harder than others. 

Enough of that, though. Tomorrow is Christmas, and there will be gifts to open, pictures to take-no, I haven’t forgotten taking the pictures at the top of the staircase!-and food to enjoy. Know that you’re missed, and never far from our thoughts. Traci has a song playing called “Good to be Alive RIght About Now.” She’s right…it is, and while you’re missed, know that we’re all taking very good care of each other. I know you’d like to know that!  

Love you and miss you--

Matthew

On My Newest Toy

Today is a little bittersweet for me. I finally get a chance to unpack my shiny new toy: A Nikon D5200. I’ve been saving for this camera for three years; I finally got a chance to really unpack it and see what a gem I’ve gotten. (Okay, I admit I was saving for the D5100, but they’re no longer available. I’ll just have to suffer through with the better unit. Darn.) It’s a beaut, and I can’t wait to go out and play with it. 

However, there’s a sad part to this. I have to put my trusty old Minolta dImage Z6 away, along with all the accessories. I’ve had to remove the really nice camera strap off of it-a Tamrac padded leather N45-pull all the accessories out of my old Velocity 7 bag, and put them away. This is harder than you think; there’s been a lot of happy miles and many great shots with my Z6. Bought the day before leaving on a five week trip back in 2005 for a road trip for work and pleasure in which we went (amongst other places) to the Grand Canyon for a day and I just knew the little Vivitar I had was not going to work like I wanted (with the Grand Canyon, few cameras do), it quickly felt at home in my hands. It’s been to Hawai’i three times, Canada three times, all over the west coast (I have no idea how many beach pictures the thing’s taken), and all over the United States. I’ve shot the Mexican border with it (then turned around and headed away from San Ysidro). I’ve gotten some wonderful shots: flowers, waterfalls, butterflies…sunsets. Family times: Christmases, Thanksgivings, anniversaries. I took a few shots before Dad’s memorial service with it. I took photos of Deena’s class reunion with it on my Slik U8000 tripod. It’s been crammed into backpacks; the whole kit’s been packed in my suitcase and survived. It’s been a good part of my life for the last nine years, dependable as the day is long-so long as I had batteries to feed it. 

But the reality is that time has gone by. Unlike an old 35mm film camera that you could use for years on end with proper care and maintenance, digital cameras have greatly improved. Case in point: Shots that Deena is catching with disgusting ease just aren’t possible with 6 megapixels. Consider this: my iPhone camera has 5 megapixels; great for candids and quick shots (Remember: the best camera you have is the one that’s with you) but not for the kind of stuff I really, really want to do. And since Minolta was bought by Sony, it’s not like I can move into another Minolta. Deena’s Canon suits her; she’s gotten some really great stuff. However, I knew this last trip to Hawai’i that the next time I go back I was going to have to have a better camera. Too many shots I should have gotten, too many shots my mind saw-but the poor thing was just never designed to get. So it’s all back in their boxes and bags, along with all my other older cameras, waiting for one more trip somewhere. It’ll probably make a few trips here and there, perhaps; like the little Vivitar it replaced, the Z6 will be something I might take to an amusement park or someplace I don’t want to run the risk of breaking the D5200-or having it stolen. 

And as time goes by, what is right now becoming a very light Velocity 7 slingpack will get heavier; a speedlight (flash) will likely be the next major purchase. There will need to be a few minor purchases: a second battery as even Lith-Ion runs down and needs a charge eventually; a few odds and ends including a lens protector ($30 beats replacing a $300 lens) and a polarizer; at least one more lens-and probably two will eventually get added. Why buy all this stuff? Because I’ve had to work at this the hard way. Dad taught me well, and a few classes growing up didn’t hurt-but the truth is that I want do better work than I’ve been able to. This should stay with me for quite a while; and even if I eventually need a new camera body I’ll still have the lenses and the flash to go with it. 

Enough for now. 

On Sorting Through Stuff

This last week I spent at my boyhood home, sorting through a bunch of stuff that represents a lot of Mom’s life. (Mom is fine, so no worries there.) There was stuff in the upstairs attic, garage rafters, and the back of the shed (and no, 99.97 percent of it wasn’t mine). It’s my Dad’s stuff, mostly, some of it Mom’s, a little each of both my sisters, and oddly enough, some stuff from the missus that she didn’t even know was up there. It was quite a lot--we filled 10 yards of a 20 yard dumpster, and the Salvation Army wound up filling what appeared to be a quarter of a truckload. Not bad for three days work.

A bit o’ ancient history: way back when I was in high school, back in the early 1980’s, I was called by several names (most of which are unprintable; I’d like to keep this blog somewhat family friendly). One of those was “Packrat.” I earned that because I carried a backpack to all my classes. In those days, you could and nobody cared. Nowadays, they search them for things. My, how times have changed...but, I digress. I carried my ‘pack because my locker was smack in the middle of “D” wing (D1214, to be precise), and I knew I couldn’t get to it, into and out of it, and to my classes on time. You just can’t stretch five minutes into eight, no matter how good you are.

The fact I collected all manner of junk...excuse me, really cool stuff...was a secondary issue. Or, so I thought.

So, why bring up ancient history? Because of what was unearthed.

Thongs like old magazines. Stuff from Blue Devils (Yes, all three of us kids were in the Concord Blue Devils. My two sisters were both in the “A” Corps, and I was in both Cadets (now “C” corps) and “B” Corps) and the CVHS marching band. More old magazines. Office stuff from what appears to be Dad’s last five offices. Computer stuff that dates backs to our first few home computers. (I found some tapes from the TRS-80 we had when I was still called Packrat, as well as a template for planning programs, plus about two years of 80Micro. If you had a TRS-80, you know what that is.) Even more old magazines. Stuff that was from my Mom’s mother. And her Aunt. And her Cousin. Stuff my one sister created in college. (Both my sisters are disgustingly artistically talented.) Effects from when I was in Y-Indian guides. (Told you this stuff was old!) Styrofoam that fit monitors long gone. Foam peanuts. Newspapers that discuss Kennedy’s assassination AND the 1976 US Bicentennial. Yet more old magazines. Engineering books, and a fair number of them.

Now, to be fair, I have my own share of junk in storage. (George Carlin was right--Dad had some real junk, but I have some really cool stuff.) Roughly forty percent of my library is in small-sized cedar tubs. I have several boxes of stuff that frankly needs sorting and either pitching, donating, or putting aside until I can file it, use it, or put it on a wall. The vast majority of the LEGO, Star Trek items, and a lot of my Barbershop stuff is also in tubs. More back issues of Discipleship Journal, The Harmonizer, Animerica Magazine (and Animerica Plus as well), and Star Trek: The Magazine than is possibly safe to admit to. (Plus some old Manga, in issue form.) So you know I come by this honestly, and it seems to have come from from my Great-Grandmother, through Grandfather Crandall, to Dad...and thus, to me.

The biggest difference, however, is that I have already gotten rid of a lot of stuff. (Don’t believe me? Ask the missus.) And, as I have time (probably in the waiting times for each of my dissertation components) I am going to have go through and get rid of more of it. It’s not that it’s junk (although some of it is).

It’s because I don’t want the missus to have to sort through it all later on.

Enough for now.

(Posted 6/8/09)

Thoughts on the New Year....

So I’m at home. We’ve survived the first Christmas without Dad, and really, he would have had a ball. We gathered as family at the house in Concord, and we celebrated Christmas. Nothing maudlin or sad. My brother in law proposed a wonderful toast.

We’ve also gone through some more of Dad’s personal effects, and for those who know me, if you think I’m a packrat, I have nothing on him. We’re finding stuff none of us knew he had, including a doctorate that wasn’t on his wall.

But this isn’t about that. Not really. It’s about thinking of what will come in the new year.

Now, I firmly believe that Spring is the time to make new commitments. January, post Christmas, is the wrong time of the year to make changes in your life. Dieting after a month of bingeing on holiday cookies, for example, makes sense. But if you want to make a permanent lifestyle change to keep that weight off for good, January is not that month. Everything is dead in winter.

What will happen this coming year? Only the Almighty knows for sure. I can make plans, but there’s no promises that any of it will come to pass. I am hoping to wrap up my third doctorate this coming year. I’d like to get down around 180 pounds and get in decent shape, so when I go to Kona in August I’ll look good in my surf shorts. (Not to mention living better and potentially longer.) I’d like to get in better shape financially...but then, who wouldn’t?

The gist of all this is this: We just celebrated the birth of Jesus Christ, maker of Heaven and Earth. Literally, only He knows what the year to come will bring. Make plans, but trust Jesus to guide and shape your year.

May you all have a Blessed and Prosperous New Year.

Enough for now.

(Posted 12/29/08)

On the passing of my father....

This is a blog I wish I didn’t have to write. God knows, I really didn't want to write this.

It is with great heaviness of heart that I announce the passing of my father, Dr. Carl (“Doc”) Crandall.

Dad had a dry sense of humor, and never failed to crack a joke whenever possible. He also was always very involved with us musically, supporting my sisters and I through Drum Corps, various choirs, marching bands, concert bands, vocal ensembles and so forth. In fact, his sense of humor came out when I first became a barbershopper; he paid my first year dues and told me not to tell Mom—and when she found out that he had done so, let us both know what she thought. (She has long since forgiven us; she felt that I should have paid it myself.)

He was born October 30, 1931, and died August 21, 2008. He served in the U.S. Navy, rising to the rank of Lt. Commander prior to his honorable discharge; after his discharge he worked for 30 years as an electrical engineer. He held four earned and one honorary doctorates, three masters degrees, five bachelors degrees, and an associates degree (and those were just the ones we found).

Some knew him as Lt. Commander. He was a man used to following orders when he was given them, and was equally used to having orders followed when he gave them. If space allowed, I could tell you the story of how he “improved” a four lane bowling alley until it was virtually new—with 20 lanes, and all within keeping to guidelines and orders, mind you. He loved and served his country, and believed in duty, honor, and country. He also believed in doing the right thing simply because it was the right thing to do. He instilled those beliefs in all he worked with.

Others knew him as Dr. Crandall. He never flaunted his education; instead, he used it for the betterment of many people. His mind helped a number of people deal with engineering issues that would have sent others scrambling for slide rules and computers. He more often than not did it in his head. There are numerous stories of engineering projects that he got called in on, from North Carolina to Hawai’i, and all over the west coast. He received his Ph.D in 1964.

I won’t go into all his accomplishments, but here are a few that he mentioned in his writings: 1935: Singlehandedly removed dashboard form father’s Model A with a large screwdriver; 1937: Skipped kindergarten and went directly into first grade; 1945: Salutatorian of grade school graduating class, won English prize, overcame stage fright and made first extemporaneous speech; and 1953: Had first date with future wife. He was also a school teacher, studied law and letters, international relations, as well as engineering.

Those that knew him a little better called him Doc. These were the ones that discovered his wicked, dry sense of humor. Limericks, puns, and shaggy dog stories were often told, much to his amusement. I can say that he loved a good joke or quip. He truly loved a good laugh, and always seemed to have something to fit the bill…or the miles.

These were also the people that discovered that he had a large heart, probably too big at times, but always well meaning. He stood for treating everyone fairly, and respecting them not just to be respectful, but respecting them for who they were and what they believed in.

Some called him brother, cousin, uncle, or granddad. Mom was lucky to call him her husband. There are about two hundred or so band, choir, and drum corps folks who called him dad. I was one of three that was lucky, because he really was—and forever will be—my dad.

Dad had a number of other interests. Computers and electrical gadgets and widgets were always being built, taken apart, improved, and rebuilt. He impressed upon us kids the importance of finding something we liked, and following it. Judo, Drum Corps, dance, Barbershop and other forms of singing and music, photography, recording, gadgets and widgets, and even flying. Dad really was multifaceted, and that is reflected in our family.

Dad also firmly believed in education. That’s why all of us went to college. Even mom went on to school; and while they worked in tandem on education (just ask her about flash cards), dad also took interest and pushed us to go on for as much education as we could get. I know he ran interference for me at least twice in high school!

Dad loved a good meal. He loved to grill a good steak, and did so when he could. And if the grill didn’t work, he’d fire up his trusty Bernzomatic blowtorch. Oh, yes—he also loved tools, and had a shop full of them.

Dad wasn’t perfect. Far from it. He didn’t like to have his time wasted on useless things, worthless meetings, and the like. He once ran a unnecessary CVHS Music Booster meeting and completed it in less than ten minutes, my senior year. I brought him dinner that night, I was there for it and saw the whole thing such as it was. He also did not suffer fools gladly. I won’t go into that at all.

He was, however, a man of few words. I suspect he didn’t know just how much he was loved.

Father loved to travel. Places I know he went all over the world (outside of much of the United States, and some of these places he was stationed at) were places like Newfoundland, Scotland, England and Wales, Ireland, Taiwan, Guam, Canada, and Japan. And yet, as much as he loved to travel, he also loved coming home and resting in his comfy recliner after a good meal.

It was the trip to Japan that inspired me to study, informally, much of the Japanese culture—especially the popular culture—over much of my life, a study that continues to this day.

It is with this in mind, and in that spirit, that I leave you with this:

Sayonara, Papa-sama. Yo no nokori, nazenara anata ha anata no heiwa o e ta.

(Farewell, honored father. Rest well, for you have earned your peace.)

Enough for now.
(posted 9/3/08)